Transportation

poem by Kristen Lindquist

Listen to Garrison Keillor read Kristen’s poem here on the April 4th edition of The Writer’s Almanac.

Everyone in O’Hare is happy today.
Sun shines benevolently
onto glorious packaged snack foods
and racks of Bulls t-shirts.
My plane was twenty minutes early.
Even before I descend into the trippy light show
of the walkway between terminals,
I am ecstatic. I can’t stop smiling.
On my flight we saw Niagara Falls
and Middle America green and gold below.
Passengers thanked the pilot for his smooth landing
with such gratitude that I too
thanked him, with sudden and wholehearted sincerity.
A group of schoolchildren passes on the escalator,
and I want to ask where they’re going.
Tell me your story, I want to say.
This is life in motion.
A young couple embraces tearfully at a gate;
she’s leaving, he’s not.
How can I bring this new self back to you, intact?
He yells to her departing back,
“Hey, I like the way you move!”
Any kind of love seems possible.
We walk through this light together.
So what if it’s an airport?
So what if it won’t last?